Had to put my derrière down!

I’m afraid that I might have just hurt someone’s feelings really bad. It was a … situation and all I felt was the weight of this person pushing down on me as he was continuously thrusting forward in shorter, quicker, and for him, arousing movements. I forcefully slide a few inches away from his wrath and ask ‘Why?’ He said: ‘Huh, I don’t understand’. ‘Why are you hurting me?’ I asked. ‘You don’t like?!’ he replied and pondered. I said: ‘No, not really. Do you?’ ‘Yes’ he said. ……..

As I took the time to reflect on the ego I might have damaged I heard the door slam something hard.

When did doing push ups on someone smaller than you and thrusting their heads to the bed frame at twice the speed of the push ups seem like it would be pleasurable?

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Unworthy

Unworthy!

For some reason I wanted to be on stage and live a lie. I lived many lies: Lives of peasants, aboriginals,musclemen, cats,frogs, the list is never ending.

I was safely and beautifully put there by the mothers and the fathers of the dance. Some of them even kings and lords. Unfortunately I was not mentally mature enough to enjoy and appreciate my surroundings. I felt underserving, novice like all the time and could only enjoy the seriousness of what I lived through in bed wondering if that was me hours after the parade had subsided.

I worked and was awarded great gifts from a god. A god I thought unworthy of. A person I felt was always jeering at me and pointing out my bad habits. In actuality there was nothing there but love, adornment and education from the god’s side as he too dealt with issues of insecurity. He, like me was expressing through the dance what he could not express verbally. It almost felt like a strange kindred Spirit had been born between the two of us. A spirit that both separated us yet kept us in wonderment. This spirit and you helped steer a life for me that was beyond anything imagined. You helped pave the final steps of my mature life.

Someone else had beaten you to my soul a long time ago. This person took it when I was five and repeatedly kept coming back for any remnants of the five year old. He probably wanted to get back at someone for having done the same to him as in not being capable of understanding his train of thought he subconsciously hurt the part of his family he probably loved the most and made himself into a thief, a violator of souls and a ghost torn between reality and pain.

The soul was damaged, premature, aged, dead and deadened. Yet there was a need to survive. So it ran to what he didn’t know at all. His body. The thing he could not love he decided to nourish with art and dance.

And there waited god to save me.

In saving me you helped deepen my misunderstanding of disassociation and helped me to escape from the truth which would come and naw at me randomly.

Yesterday, I realize that the child that was finally growing up the child whose soul was finally exhaling could be re boxed and stored. You have taken the dual role of my condemner as well as my therapist. The same arms which were once so curious and welcoming are now jaded by undue pain and standing straight in front of you exposing your fleshy rose palms. I am unworthy.

I love and hate

It’s been months now that I have had no contact with him and it hurst like real pain. This is something I should have gone through years ago as it has been since 2004 since we have had not had sexual relations

but there was always something.  I kept telling myself to be careful of depending on him too much because he will up and leave you but I remembered those sweet words. Which kept me so calm at night and so wild at the same time.  Those words any child wants to hear from a parent or a lover from another: “I will protect you for as long as I live”.  How can anyone say something like that to another?Such false promises and he kept repeating it.  I grew to believe it.  He could not handle the fact that I was not well and had demons to fight.  He didn’t think that I could be so vulnerable.  He saw a star of the stage.  Someone who the people of his town were extolling during bows at the opera house of his town.  He never saw the baby that was crying inside because he was never allowed to cry. I remember that when I told him that something had come out of therapy about who it was who had molested me as a child and his answer shocked me.  “I don’t know what to say to something like that”. That was neither comforting nor negative.  I felt that it was dismissive.  Like most of the things in our relationship dismissed.  Every time I said that I was depressed:  “Get over it.  It’s nothing.  You’ll be fine.”  Dismissed.  Maybe that was what the problem was. I unfortunately gave him too much power and allowed myself to think that he ws my knight in shining armor although again, its been more than 10 years since we have had any sexual relations.  After our estranged break up, I felt like he was always trying to keep me interested in him and I kept running away.  I guess he got tired of the running and said a “Fuck off” by sneakingly taking his keys away from me.  I try every day to hate him more than I already do but cannot.  I love who I love and cannot un-love them.  Yet I am so angry.  Why have I always spent Xmas alone while he made it point to go to his family and not invite me?  It was my fault.  I am always and forever naive and believe that there is love.  The kind of love that I believe in is only on TV because that is how I have seen it exhibited as a child.  So my warped idea of love is just that: warped.  I wish that I had never gone down this road.  No regrets.

I met someone. 

Tryptech reflected me and my shadows‘Excuse me do you speak English?’ I heard from my left with a sing song lilt and some exotic African accent. Turning around to the person asking I found out I was right. I asked: 

‘Yeah what do you want?’

Keep Walking. Just another freak in the parade. 

‘Do you know where the bus station is? ‘

OK stop. ‘There are two bus stations but I suppose you want the closest. This is Pau Claris street. You know if you walk straight down. Just keep going. It’s a long walk. You’ll eventually run into it’. 

Something made me ask: ‘why do you need the bus station?’

‘I figure I could sleep there’ i looked further into his eyes. 17-18 years maybe. Extremely dirty but soft eyes. 

‘Oh, you know I’m like you in a way.’  

‘What?’ A look of bewilderment. 

‘I have nowhere to go as well’

A small Tyra Banks smize showed up on his face:

‘You know I don’t know anyone here.’  

‘Listen if you can’t sleep in the station then there is a park in the around it. There are lots of people there.’

Wait a minute I thought to myself. That’s not good advice. He has so little they’ll steal that from him. 

As I prepared to walk the 40 minute walk with him to the bus station I thought: this is not me. I cannot take this person’s path. It is his to follow. ‘I hope that you get there. Have to run. Take care.’

Insult to Injury

After being dumped, which in the end did hurt, I started speaking online to someone I always speak to.  I mean chat.  Anyway, as I said, I feeling hurt because I felt dumped like a bowel movement.  I did not tell him the reason I felt hurt but did tell him that I was feeling somewhat melancholic.

 

insult to injury conversation

I could just say “Whatever!!!!” but I wont.